Fragment 16 ("To an Army Wife, in Sardis")
A troop of horse, the serried ranks of marchers, // A noble fleet, some think these of all on earth // Most beautiful. For me naught else regarding // Is my beloved.
To understand this is for all most simple, // For thus gazing much on mortal perfectino // And knowing already what life could give her, // Him chose fair Helen,
Him the betrayer of Ilium's honour. // The recked she not of adored child or parent, // But yielded to love, and forced by her passion, // Dared Fate in exile.